


Icarus

by RedPen1992



Series: Icarus [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Hands, Kissing, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPen1992/pseuds/RedPen1992
Summary: Kuzan reached out to him, but his back was turned. He called out to him, but he didn’t hear.So he flew closer, closer and closer still. Until he was just within reach, a hair’s breadth away from his outstretched fingers.And in that wonderful moment Kuzan thought that he could reach him, his wings gave way. He heard them rip and crack, the sounds of ice shattering filled his ears as he fell. His arms still outstretched to the heavens, the clouds obscuring his sight so he could no longer see him.He fell further, the clouds he had breached melded into a large mass of white. He fell past glimmering shards of his broken wings, and in the moments before he hit the water he thought, “At least I got close.”
Relationships: Akainu | Sakazuki/Kizaru | Borsalino, Aokiji | Kuzan/Kizaru | Borsalino
Series: Icarus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956100
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> Super late Birthday Present for Kuzan ;)

“You have to get your scores up, Kuzan. Or else you will be flunked from the academy.”

Kuzan groaned into the palms of his hands. Desperately wanting the chair he was sitting on to eat him, or perhaps a meteor could just crash down at this very spot. He was sure there was a devil fruit for that, or maybe the world just needed it. He knew he did. His scores were abysmal. But really could these people blame him? 

He hadn’t grown up with very much structure in his life at all, he figured living in an orphanage did that to a person. Growing up as the lowest class in a poor city in the South Blue taught him many things. 

He learned to scavenge. The little white packages of crackers that were given to them from the orphanage as “food” were never enough to fill his belly, and not nearly nutritious enough to nourish the body properly. It wasn’t like they had much to do during the day, so he walked around and looked for food, sometimes he found it and sometimes he didn’t. 

He learned from sneaking into the city that drinking alcohol was what cool people do, people with power and influence always seemed to drink. Looking back on it now Kuzan supposed that it may not have been the best habit for a child to pick up. 

No matter, it still looks cool. 

He learned that standing up against bad people sometimes leads to fights, and when he was older and stronger, he learned that he could win those fights. 

The streets were his classroom. He barely knew how to read and write in the first place, how the hell did they expect him to compose essays on literature he didn’t understand more than half the words to? 

Dumb luck had dropped his devil fruit in his lap, one day while eating some fruit he had bought from the market, he watched one of them morph into something strange. The natural skin of the fruit twisting into swirls and jagged lines. Its exterior becoming slightly cold to the touch and turned an unnaturally hued shade of blue. He was hungry though, so he took a bite anyway, half thinking he was unfortunate enough to see a fruit go bad in his hand. It tasted horrid, by far the worst thing he had ever eaten in his entire life, but he choked the whole thing down. 

He was hungry. 

Afterwards things felt strange, that night the cold damp air didn’t bother him as much, being able to sleep soundly for the first time in a long time. Then the rain came. It woke him up. He could never sleep when it was raining. 

He cursed at it, stomping his foot on the ground and instantly turning the wet streets to slick ice. Kuzan panicked, his feet stuck in the unyielding trap and unable to move. After a bit of struggling he pulled his feet from the ice with a crunching snap, detaching the foot from the ankle. 

Kuzan screamed as he fell backward, expecting pain, but instead watched in shocked fascination as his foot grew back, ice forming in its place, hardening and cracking into place until he could feel his toes again. The young man sat in shock for a bit before standing, brushing himself off and walking away. 

He had joined the Marines as a way to try and figure out how to control his powers, after a bar scuffle ended in the whole building with all of its occupants being frozen over, he felt he needed the help.

So here he was, sitting in the Marineford Main Library staring at a picture he didn’t understand the meaning to and trying to write a paper on it. Kuzan sighed loudly for maybe the tenth time since he had committed himself to the work in front of him. 

It was a [pretty picture,](https://www.historytoday.com/sites/default/files/icarus.jpg) he wrote down that there were fluffy clouds… and that there was a pretty blue sea… and that there was a guy in a dress with a red undershirt pushing a cart with a horse… but the teacher had said something about looking deeper, that he was just skimming the surface of the water.

The hell did that mean? Kuzan groaned again, frustrated at himself for not being able to “see” what all of his classmates apparently saw. He threw his head into his hands and groaned again. 

“Oh~ what do we have here? So noisy~” 

Kuzan sat up and whipped his head around, watching his teammate approach the table with long languid unhurried strides. For a man who could move at the speed of light, he sure took his time. “Ah, uh… Arara-” he leaned back in his chair, tipping it, balanced precariously on two legs and scratched the back of his head. “I’ve got to do this ah- paper on this art, it kinda sucks.” 

“Oh~?” Borsalino leaned over his shoulder to look at his work, one hand stabilizing the back of the chair and the other on the corner of the table. Borsalino’s chest brushed Kuzan’s shoulder slightly, the latter hoped the former couldn’t tell how his heart rate picked up, how he swallowed loudly at the contact. Kuzan pretended to stare at the paper in front of him, eyebrows knit together in frustration, but secretly side eyed the expanse of skin between his collar bone and chin. The dream from last night echoed treacherously in his mind, his skin heating up. 

He watched as Borsalino scanned the papers of barely legible handwriting, curiosity gracing his features until he saw the picture, “Ah~! The Landscape with the Fall of Icarus~ this is one of my favorites.” He moved his hand over to tap the piece of paper, a beaming smile plastered on his face, “Would you like some help~?” 

When that radiant smile was directed at him, who was Kuzan to say no? And besides, he desperately needed the help. “Sure thing.” 

Borsalino let go of Kuzan’s chair to go pull one up from another table, leaving Kuzan flailing for a moment trying to find his balance and not make a fool of himself. Once Kuzan placed all four legs of his chair on the ground and wasn’t in danger of falling, he glanced over at Borsalino, his back still turned to him, looking around for a spare chair. 

Kuzan’s eyes traveled down his companion’s form to his pert butt, admiring how his pants clung to his shape, how his long lithe legs moved and how the muscles in his calves looked. He immediately turned and admonished himself, he really didn’t need a boner right now. Looking at the painting didn’t help to quell his feelings though. Prior to Borsalino arriving he thought it was a meaningless piece of art, but now that he had said it was “one of his favorites,” Kuzan took a better look. This annoying painting meant more to him now than just an assignment because Borsalino had said that. 

When his teammate returned with a chair he also placed a small stack of books on the table, setting them down gently as if they were made of glass. 

“What are those?” Kuzan pointed at the books, “More material for classes?” 

Borsalino chuckled, “No, no, I am reading these for personal pleasure.” He set a hand on them, brushing the binding absently with a finger, “I love~ to get lost in books.”

Kuzan raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. By the looks of it they were quite the endeavor, thicker than anything he would want to read, that is for sure. One of those would probably take him a year to get through, and Borsalino had three of them. 

“How long does it take you to read something of that size?” 

Borsalino hummed, tapping a finger to his chin, “Hmmm~ all of these might take me a week or two I suppose…”

“Really!? Thats crazy!” Kuzan was promptly sushed by a few of the nearby patrons. He sat up and waved placatingly, “Arara, sorry about that guys.” 

When Kuzan turned his attention back to Borsalino, he had an amused expression on his face, studying him. He suddenly felt warm under that gaze, diverting his attention back to the paper, “Ah- I need to get a good grade on this project or else I flunk the academy.” 

“I see, well~ it’s a good thing I am familiar with the literature, is this an analysis?” Borsalino eyed the papers, resting his head in his right hand. 

“Yeah, here you can look at what I have already.” Kuzan pushed the paper over to Borsalino. When he really looked at it, it wasn’t much to read. And after working for nearly two hours already he figured that the amount of work he had already done was abysmal at best. An odd heavy feeling settled in his gut, watching Borsalino’s eyes flit back and forth as he read what he had written. It was a wonder that he could even read his chicken scratch at all. 

“This isn’t bad.” Borsalino scanned the paper over again, “though~, it doesn’t seem that you understand what is happening here.” He reached over and tapped the picture. “You are describing the painting, not what is happening in it.” 

They made eye contact as Borsalino looked up. He grinned and chuckled a bit. “Hmmm~ you didn’t read the assigned book did you, Kuzan-kun~?” 

Kuzan leaned back in his chair again, balancing it precariously on the back two legs, reaching back to card his fingers through his hair. “Ah, well…” He searched the ceiling for the right words, but having Borsalino’s astute gaze on him was distracting. “I think I may have fallen asleep reading it I guess.”

The older cadet scooted his chair closer, their knees brushed underneath the table briefly and Kuzan felt hot at the contact. A rush of heat raced up his spine like electricity. He set his chair back down on four legs slowly, not trusting himself to keep his balance and hoping his companion hadn’t seen him shiver slightly. Kuzan watched Borsalino's hand as he tapped the picture in front of him. 

“This is Icarus.” 

“Huh?” Kuzan leaned forwards looking at the painting, “Arara, I thought those were the fish that the fisherman was catching.” 

“No~pe. Those are his legs sticking up out of the water, and here you can see his feathers raining down from the sky in the wake of his fatal plummet into the sea.” Borsalino looked down at the painting with adoration. “It was meant to be something the viewer didn’t notice unless they looked closer. See how he fell in the shadow of the ship and away from where the eye naturally wants to travel? The beauty of the landscape and vibrant life vastly overshadow the tragedy of Icarus.”

Kuzan stared at Borsalino, he never heard him talk like this before, his reverence for the piece of art made him look at it with a new light. He hadn’t even known those were legs. He didn’t really see the feathers until Borsalino pointed them out. Painted so lightly onto the backdrop of the rising sun, angelic in their presentation. 

“Daedelus, Icarus’s father warned him not to fly too close to the sun, for the heat would melt his wings. They were constructed with beeswax holding the feathers together and when Icarus ignored his father’s warnings, reaching for the sun, he fell to the sea and drowned.” 

“Arara, that is a pretty depressing story, ya know?” Kuzan lifted an eyebrow and looked up at Borsalino, “No one noticed him and went to save him?” 

Borsalino smiled, turning that look to him. He felt his heart flutter and his breath hitch. Heat rose to his cheeks and he willed it away hurriedly, ducking his head down to look at the painting to try and hide it. 

“Hmmm~ Life goes on, no one has time to mourn for the dreamer~.” 

“Borsalino.” 

Kuzan froze at the voice that came from behind him, commanding attention from the man before him. Paying attention to his periphery, he realised that Borsalino’s gaze hadn’t moved at all. 

Borsalino wasn’t looking at him with such adoration. He was looking past him. The nice heat he had felt drained immediately, replaced by annoyance at being interrupted, a slight twinge of betrayal swimming in his gut. He had fooled himself again. 

“This is where you were? I was waiting outside you know.” Sakazuki asked gruffly, the edges of anger rumbling in his voice. 

“Oh~? How gentlemanly of you Sakazuki.” 

Sakazuki scoffed, “What the hell are you doing here anyways? I checked in your usual spot and you weren’t there.” 

Borsalino had a usual spot in the library? It made sense considering how much he read. “Yo.” Kuzan raised a hand and turned to his other teammate. “I’m here if you haven’t noticed.” He hadn’t meant to sound so annoyed, but he supposed he couldn’t help it after Borsalino was being talked to like that. It was like Sakazuki was trying to accuse him of a high crime. 

“Kuzan-kun here needed he~lp with an art analysis. You remember this one don’t you~?” Borsalino’s tone got even more playful than before, his demeanor perking up in the presence of Sakazuki, tapping the piece of paper and slid it over the table to a better position for Sakazuki to see. 

Kuzan didn’t understand it. 

He shifted to the side, away from Sakazuki as he leaned over his shoulder to look at the painting. “Yeah I remember.” 

“Then you remember how you needed help too~ Sakazuki-san?” The way Borsalino enunciated Sakazuki’s name made Kuzan’s blood run cold. In a lower octave than what he usually used, reserved for him. 

Tch. “Yes.” Kuzan’s eyebrows shot up, all of the fire Sakazuki had stomped in with had been doused almost immediately, he turned to look at the intrusive man. 

The action unfortunately ended up garnering Sakazuki’s attention, his gaze shifting towards him. Their eyes locked in a battle they were already well versed in, the tension between them grew thick in the air. 

But something was off. 

Sakazuki looked back to Borsalino, dismissing him as if he wasn’t worth the trouble. “You hungry?” 

“Ohh~” Borsalino leaned back in his chair, rubbing his belly, “I Suppose so~. Ne~ Kuzan-kun, would you like to join us?” 

Kuzan shook his head, the last thing he needed right now was to be around that infuriating man, and especially now that he felt so sulky. He waved his hand in the air, shooing the both of them, “Nah I ate a little bit ago you two enjoy your lunch.” 

“Ah~ alright, you keep working on this, I’ll be back later to help al~right?” As Borsalino left with Sakazuki in tow he patted his shoulder in a way a teacher might to a student. Maybe a mentor or tutor. As a friend. 

He looked back down at the papers on the table, at Icarus and the beautiful landscape, how he fell, chasing the sun, drowning unnoticed by the world around him. 

He picked up the pen and started writing. 

After a few minutes of hard work and dedication he then decided to get up and retrieve a snack from the vending machine. He was hungry after all. 

After he ate, he decided he probably needed a nap after coming back to his table and seeing the work he had done, it was quite a bit… maybe not for other people, but for him it was a ton. So he fished his sleeping cap out of his pocket and slipped it over his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He only needed a small nap.

He noticed that his hand kind of ached before letting his body relax fully, letting his head roll back over the edge of the chair. 

The sky was blue, the clouds around him fluffy, dissipating into mist as he flew through them. The gentle bobbing of his body caused by the flapping of his lazy wings, soaring across the sea below him. Distantly he saw the land, his goal. The green pastures were welcoming and fertile, the people nice and minding their own business. The promise of peace and a long life beckoned him to green harbors. 

But then he looked up. The yellow light above him so enrapturing, so beautiful and life giving that he couldn't help but look up. As he did, his direction changed, no longer flying to the safe land but up, up through the peaks of the clouds, through the haze and the meaninglessness, through the feelings of listlessness. 

And Borsalino was there. 

He was standing atop the clouds as if they were solid, wearing robes seemingly made from the sunlight itself, flowing over his skin with an otherworldly iridescence. The yellow fabric near translucent, displaying his toned muscles, but like rays of light they seemed to take a life of their own, shimmering and dancing in a way that made him look like a mirage. They clung to his form in all of the right places, hanging free and loose in others, draping itself over deceivingly delicate looking arms, flowing down over long powerful legs to pool at his feet. 

Kuzan reached out to him, but his back was turned. He called out to him, but he didn’t hear. 

So he flew closer, closer and closer still. Until he was just within reach, a hair’s breadth away from his outstretched fingers.

And in that wonderful moment Kuzan thought that he could reach him, his wings gave way. He heard them rip and crack, the sounds of ice shattering filled his ears as he fell. His arms still outstretched to the heavens, the clouds obscuring his sight so he could no longer see him. 

He fell further, the clouds he had breached melded into a large mass of white. He fell past glimmering shards of his broken wings, and in the moments before he hit the water he thought, “At least I got close.” 

He was jolted awake, his arms and legs spasmed, reaching forwards as his body fell backwards, only to be stopped before he was sure he was going to end up on his back. 

“Hmmm~ working hard? Or hardly working?” 

Kuzan’s sleeping cap was lifted off of his eyes, opening them to the literal man of his dreams. 

Borsalino smiled down at him with amusement, stripped of the god-like robes of Kuzan’s dreams and in his usual beanie and yellow shirt. He stood above him, one hand on the back of Kuzan’s chair, keeping him from falling down. It was unclear to Kuzan whether he had fallen and Borsalino had caught him, or if Borsalino had tipped him back. Either way around, he was left looking up at bespectacled eyes, lost in the way they stared back at him. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Kuzan reached a hand up to touch Borsalino, cupping his cheek. 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Borsalino might have leaned into the touch a bit, but Kuzan was sure that was just his mind taking liberties with the situation. “Just making sure you are real.” 

“Oh~” There was that smile again, so bright it could banish clouds during a monsoon, “Have a nice dream?” 

Kuzan felt Borsalino’s jaw move under his hand as he spoke, caressing his warm skin, his fingers brushed over the edge of his tinted sunglasses, and felt the small curls of his jet black hair. He knew his hand was overstaying its welcome, but so long as Borsalino didn’t drop him, Kuzan had no intentions of letting go. 

He reached him. Not within the dream, but here in reality. “Arara, you could say that I guess.” 

Kuzan felt it under his palm, how the muscles moved, pulling his lips up. He felt the small tilt of his head, actually leaning into Kuzan’s hand as the edges of his eyes crinkled. Borsalino chuckled, all beautiful smooth tones, the most angelic music to his ears accompanied with that dazzling smile. Having formed under his touch, because of him, looking down at him. 

The young Marine Cadet had to remind himself to breathe, his chest felt like it was going to burst and collapse at the same time. 

Borsalino ended the moment, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly. His smile closed, hiding perfect teeth behind plush lips. 

Kuzan’s body shifted as Borsalino started to bring him back up from his reclined position. Before he took his hand back Kuzan brushed his thumb across Borsalino’s bottom lip, savoring the feeling of that soft skin. His fingers trailed lines down to his chin, reluctant to let go. 

Back on steady seating, with the ground underneath his feet, he couldn’t feel more like he was falling. The dissipating rush of adrenaline he had experienced from almost falling was surely to blame for his mood now. He felt so heavy. 

To distract himself, he took a look at the work he had finished. It barely merited half a page. 

“Well~ what would you like me to do to help you, Kuzan-kun?” Borsalino had taken the position he had been in before, his head in his hand looking at him curiously. 

Kuzan looked at the half page of writing, thinking it over before sighing, “I guess it would be helpful if you could maybe look over it after I wrote it? Ahh, but you don’t have to stay here the whole time ya know? It must be boring just watching me write.” 

Borsalino shook his head, “Hmmm~ not at all, usually I would just be reading under the tree in the plaza anyways. Sakazuki is at his extra training session with Master Zephyr, this way I have some company~.” 

Kuzan nodded, looking back down at his work. Borsalino picked up the book on the top of the stack he had left earlier, opening it and sitting back in his chair. 

Soon Kuzan was writing line after line, scratching the paper with the pen. Borsalino would flip the page every now and again, humming to himself sometimes as he read. His teammate’s presence was calming, in a way. His focus was easier, he felt less irritated at his work and more diligent. He took the time between lines to think on it a bit, would just anyone sitting with him help? Or was it specifically Borsalino? 

His hand spasmed and he dropped the pen, “Ack!” 

Borsalino’s eyes shot up off his book, setting it down. “Hmm~? Are you alright?” 

“Arara, my hand hurts.” He shook it in the air, flapping back and forth loosely in his wrist, “I don’t think I have ever written so much in my life.” 

Borsalino folded the corner of the page, marking his place before closing and setting his book down on the table. “Oh~ you finished another page~! Good~.” 

Hearing Borsalino’s praise made a warm feeling of pride well up in his chest. 

“Here~” Borsalino reached out to him, slowly taking Kuzan’s hand within both of his own and pulling it over to him. He turned Kuzan’s wrist gently, so his palm was facing up. He pressed both thumbs down on the center of his palm, making Kuzan gasp, the action making his fingers flex and spasm. 

Thumbs pressed down into the flesh of the palm, rubbing back and forth slowly, easing the tension away, leaving trails of heat in their wake. “Ahhh~ so tense, Kuzan-kun.” When they started rubbing in circles, Kuzan barely stifled a moan. “How about I give you a massage for every page you write? Would you like that? 

It felt too good, his hand finally getting a well earned reprieve. Kuzan could barely form words, baffled at how the mundane action had affected him. He felt his cheeks start to burn and the blood in his body start to pool south, cursing himself for his carnal reaction. Kuzan ducked his head they were in the library damnit. 

“Awe~ don’t get bashful on me now~.” Borsalino started rubbing in circles, paying extra attention to the area near the base of his thumb. Kuzan couldn’t suppress the small moan that escaped his lips. He ducked his head and shifted in his seat, quickly regretting the action as the friction on his hardening cock caused him to inhale sharply. 

“Hmmm~ feels good huh?” Borsalino smiled at him, that radiant smile that lit up the room. His fingers moved onwards, finding his wrist and rubbing gently at the overused tense tendons. 

A small whimper left Kuzan’s mouth, it was too good. As if he knew exactly what to do… 

A sudden wave of bitterness overtook him, quelling the fire in his lower belly at once. Of course he knew exactly what to do, he probably gave Sakazuki massages too. 

Kuzan tried his hardest not to let his disappointment show, diverting his gaze off to the side and away from his companion. 

But it seemed nothing escaped Borsalino’s gaze, “Don’t worry Kuzan-kun~ I know it may be discouraging right now, but I am sure you will be writing pages upon pages in no time.” 

Borsalino had presumed incorrectly, but Kuzan was more than happy to let him think along those lines. When he turned his head back, there was that smile again. It did things to Kuzan he didn’t quite understand yet, having never felt such intense feelings for anyone. It felt like he was drowning in emotions he was unfamiliar to, they stole his breath every time he looked at Borsalino. Every time Borsalino said his name it caused a deep warmth to bud in his chest. Every time Borsalino smiled at him he felt like he could fly. 

Kuzan averted his gaze back to the paper, slowly disentangling his hand from Borsalino’s. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Borsalino.” He flashed him his best smile, and if he was fooling himself, he might have seen a dust of pink on those cheeks. 

Borsalino nodded and hummed an affirmative “It’s a deal then~.” Opening his book and burying himself in it again. 

Kuzan returned to his paper, picking up his pen with a renewed vigor, He couldn't think of a better incentive. 

Before he knew it, Kuzan had already written four and a half pages and was done with the assignment, legs propped up on the table with Borsalino at his side giving him another hand massage. He supported his head with one hand on the back of his neck. 

‘Yeah, but ah, well, if you aren’t on a tropical island then there won't be bananas.” 

Borsalino tilted his head, “Oh~ and there will be cows and wine?” 

“Sure at the market.” 

“I've never been to a market that didn’t import Bananas, Kuzan-kun.” 

Kuzan raised his eyebrows, wasn’t Borsalino from the North Blue? Wasn’t it cold up there? “Arara, well my home island didn’t have bananas, the first one I ever ate was from the commissary here at Marineford.” 

“Really~?” Borsalino paused his hands for a moment, “Oh~ Kuzan-kun one day I have to take you back to my home island, they have the best bananas there. Marineford imports most of its fruit from an island in the calm belt and in my opinion they don’t taste very good~.”

A warmth started spreading itself across Kuzan’s chest and over his body like he was basking in the light of the afternoon sun. Now he was picturing himself on a beach, a tropical island in a cold sea with a grove of bananas nearby, Borsalino at his side. They would talk about nothing and everything like they were doing now, Kuzan finding himself more comfortable in his presence than anyone he had ever met. It was easy to talk with him, to lounge around near him. But it also stoked a flame within Kuzan he was unfamiliar with, he never wanted to be around a person more than he wanted to be with Borsalino. 

The man was infatuating, his smile addicting, Kuzan never wanted to leave his side. 

So the young Marine ducked his head a bit, futilely hoping that would hide the heat he knew had long gathered on his cheeks, “I would love that.” 

Borsalino let go of his hands with a contented hum, sitting back in his chair. “Saka-san and I are going to the noodle shop down near the bay area, do you want to come join us?” 

Kuzan flexed his hand, marveling at how all of the aches and pains from writing had disappeared, he would love a dinner alone with him but, “Arara, no I ah-”

“You two are still in here?” Sakazuki’s curt voice cut through the general white noise of the library, the other cadet approaching from behind Kuzan. 

“Well~ it is where I said we would be~” Borslaino crooned, looking up at his partner. 

Kuzan looked to Borslaino then, and cursed himself for it. He saw the way Borslaino’s eyes twinkled with delight when he locked on Sakazuki, how he smiled brighter. Kuzan felt his chest drop, something rise in this throat, making it tighten. 

“Are you finished?” 

“Actually~ Kuzan-kun finished a while ago, we’ve just been talking~ about this and that~” 

“Tch,” Sakazuki looked at Kuzan then, their eyes locking, something dark lurked behind the older cadet’s eyes, possessive, aggressive. Kuzan figured it mirrored the way he felt. A warning and challenge, the air between them thick. 

“Hey~ I’m hungry, how about you two?” 

Sakazuki was the first to back down, turning to Borslaino. His face kept his hard look, his eyebrows drawn together as if he was angry, but Kuzan saw how his eyes softened. “Yeah, noodles?” The fire in his voice lacked heat. 

“Mhmm~!” Borsalino wasted no time, standing and picking up his books. 

Kuzan followed suit, gathering his papers and folding them neatly. He then shoved them into his back pocket and followed Borsalino, who was babbling about the menu and what noodles he liked. It occured to Kuzan that he didn’t actually know if the two of them were together in the sense that they were dating. They were clearly pining for each other, but didn’t do any of the things usual couples did. They didn’t hold hands or lock arms, they didn’t kiss or even say cute things to each other. 

Yet in a way they still did do couple-y things, it was hidden between the lines of what they said. It was in Borslaino’s tone and Sakazuki’s eyes, in the air between them, always pulling them towards each other. 

A bit like gravity. 

But it was obvious Sakazuki resisted the force of nature that was Borsalino, at least in public. Was he scared? 

“Ne~ Kuzan-kun~ Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” 

Kuzan waved his hand in the air, “Nah, I prepped food for myself at home.” It was a lie, but he hoped that he delivered it with enough confidence that Borsalino wouldn’t detect it. 

Borsalino pouted, lip jutted out just slightly, eyes more desperate than a lost puppy. Kuzan felt the pull, the need to give in just to satisfy him. Suddenly the threat of spending time with Sakazuki didn’t feel as horrid if Borslaino really wanted him there. 

“Leave him be, Borsalino.” Sakazuki stepped out from behind Borsalino, annoyance clear in his tone but his eyes locked on Kuzan. 

“Hnnn~ you aren’t any fun, Saka-san.” Borsalino swatted at Sakazuki lightly, the back of his hand slapping Sakazuki bicep. He turned to Kuzan, “Maybe next time hmm~?” 

Kuzan turned and opened the door, stepping outside and holding it open for his two teammates. “Ah, well, yeah sure.” 

He hadn't realized it had gotten so dark, the sun was already well on its way to setting, the orange horizon faded back into a dark purple swallowed by the blue black of the night sky. There weren't many stars to see, the light pollution from the base flood lights prevented that, but there were a few that were bright enough to grace the drab Marine base with their light. Almost close enough.

He hummed, tilting his head up to admire the beautiful evening. Sakazuki walked past him, intent on getting to the noodle shop quickly. 

Kuzan was totally caught off guard by Borsalino ducking into his personal space, planting a chaste playful kiss to his cheek.

The skin tingled on contact, buzzing with warmth long after Borsalino's lips drew away. “Good work today, Kuzan-kun I hope I’ll see you there tomorrow." 

Before Kuzan could so much as open his mouth to gape at the bold gesture Borsalino disappeared in a flash of yellow light, rematerializing at Sakazuki's side as he walked away. 

Kuzan watched their backs as they retreated back to the barracks, unmoving, paralyzed by the rush of emotions that threatened to pull his legs and sprint after them. He wanted to shout out and call him back, he wanted to freeze time itself for just another moment with Borsalino so that he could return the favor, maybe ask for another kiss, maybe gift one of his own. He wanted to shove Sakazuki, that ass, away for being so reserved and despondent to Borsalino's advances under the threat of the daylight. Of being seen with such a wonderful man. 

Borsalino deserved to be worshipped under the sun, to be embraced openly without unbased fear or pathetic self flagellation under the pretext of weakness. His very presence was a dark shadow to the brightest of lights. Borsalino's light was meant to be basked in, to be bathed in, there being no equal in beauty or warmth. 

Kuzan brought a hand up to his cheek without registering the motion, fingertips brushing the spot accompanied by a hopeless longing that hurt his very soul. The very fiber of his being seemed to reach out for him, reaching up to the sun on wings of ice knowing they would be melted long before he reached his goal. 

His stomach twisted, the fleeting warmth frozen over as he watched the two far away forms bump shoulders as they walked. He saw Borsalino turn his face to look at his stoic partner, the blinding radiance of love shining clearly in his profile as he smiled and laughed at something Sakazuki might have said. He watched with a heavy feeling in his gut as he saw Sakazuki duck his head slightly and his shoulders shake with a barely suppressed laugh in return.

He watched Sakazuki sway in his infallible step, moving just enough to brush their elbows together again as they walked. Further away from him. 

And he watched them go. 

He let them go. 

And suddenly Kuzan understood why Icarus reached for the sun with wings of wax, for he himself flew towards his sun alighted on wings of ice, plunging headlong into the water with every intention of drowning.

**Author's Note:**

> Icarus is Borsalino's favorite piece of Art because he pictures himself to be Icarus, chasing his sun, Sakazuki.  
> Kuzan also sees himself as Icarus, chasing Borsalino. 
> 
> Borsalino kisses Kuzan because he see him being so sulky, he thinks it will cheer him up... little did he know it would stoke the fire even more woops~ 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!


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